


Friction

by cicatrix (nematode)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Humor, M/M, Skyhold's favorite pastime is poking fun at the Inquisitor's sex life, just a whole bunch of sex jokes, this is very silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 21:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18677809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nematode/pseuds/cicatrix
Summary: Belle leaned in close, plucking the vial back up that Lavellan hadn't even realize he'd dropped. “I've heard the rumors of who you choose to bed. I have no judgment, and I do not mean to interfere in your private life. I am only looking out for your wellbeing. And, well, the greater good of the Inquisition.”“That's not – ““We can't have you stumbling around here like a mabari that's fallen down the stairs. Remember, the Inquisition's success relies upon your health and safety.”---A merchant hooks Lavellan up with some much-needed, high quality lube. But when a border conflict cuts off trade to the manufacturer, he'll stop at nothing to get it back.





	Friction

“Inquisitor Lavellan, might I be graced with a moment of your time?”

In the hustle of Skyhold's makeshift bazaar, it would have been completely excusable for Lavellan to duck his head down and keep walking. He regretted the stutter in his step for giving away that he had, in fact, heard the Orlesian merchant over the wind and chatter.

“I always have time for you, Belle.” He turned and stretched a smile across his face, before stepping closer to her stall. Those masks and strange ruffles the Orlesians always wore around their necks actually looked appealing for once – maybe under all of that he could have hidden his impatience.

If she'd caught him on his way to the War Room, or a feast for some visiting diplomat, or any of the other odd corners of Skyhold where people insisted on having very “important” meetings, he would have been more than pleased to chat. But for once in the chaotic wasteland that his life had become, he _actually had some free time_. And more importantly, he was on the way to the tavern to find the Iron Bull and make sure he got some damn good use out of it.

“I have something that I believe may interest you.”

“Oh? Merchants don't usually tell _me_ that unless they've got some new horrific way to kill people. Don't tell me you've gotten into the weapons trade?”

“Oh no, nothing so barbaric.” With hardly any shift in her stiff posture, Belle's hand disappeared under the countertop of her stall, emerging a second later with a small vial. She held the the thin glass neck between two poised fingers as she passed it over to Lavellan. “It's only a sample, but I can promise you it is the finest in Thedas.”

Lavellan took the vial and inclined his head to see if there was anything he was missing – nope, it was just a clear liquid. Only after rotating it in his hand could he see the slow, heavy flow that set it apart from just plain water.

“Oil?” He wrapped his thumb around the top to uncork it and see if it had any sort of scent, but thought better of that at the last second. “Is this... poison?”

“You truly think too much about murder, dear. Go on, you can smell it.”

Lavellan couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her. As much as he wanted to hurry this along, curiosity had gotten the better of him. He popped the lid off with it still at arm's length, but eventually had to bring it close to his face to even get a whiff of the weak scent. It smelled of herbs – none he could distinguish, but the scent brought back memories of walking through the woods after a hard rain.

“Huh.” He blinked, the pleasant scent catching him off-guard. “Cooking oil?”

“No, no, my dear. It is an oil of... _pleasure._ ”

A few long, silent seconds passed. Lavellan realized that in the time it took for his brain to stop, restart, and replay those few words, his mouth had fallen open in horror.

“That is – I – that is _highly_ unprofessional,” he spat out, hoping that his face wasn't as red as it felt.

“My apologies, Inquisitor. I did not mean to offend. But I've seen the way you walk around here – ”

“ _Excuse me_?”

Belle leaned in close, plucking the vial back up that Lavellan hadn't even realize he'd dropped. “I've heard the rumors of who you choose to bed. I have no judgment, and I do not mean to interfere in your private life. I am only looking out for your wellbeing. And, well, the greater good of the Inquisition.”

“That's not – “

“We can't have you stumbling around here like a mabari that's fallen down the stairs. Remember, the Inquisition's success relies upon your health and safety.”

“I, uh – “

“The sample is free, no pressure to use it.” Belle reached over and placed the vial back in Lavellan's hand, folding his fingers around it with a surprisingly firm grip. “But if you like it, come back and we can strike a deal.”

As he stared down at the infuriatingly nondescript oil, Lavellan wondered which god he'd pissed off enough to deserve this. Probably Mythal. The goddess of love must have finally caught wind of his strange affair with a Qunari and decided enough was enough.

“I'm going to go to the tavern and forget about this.”

Lavellan swore he saw a crack of a smile under Belle's mask as she tilted her head in the most infuriatingly dignified bow.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Inquisitor.”

* * *

“How's it feel, Kadan?”

“It's – _mmph_ – hard to tell with just fingers. Maybe a bit better?”

“You feel a little more relaxed than usual. Mmm, still _so_ damn tight though.”

“Are we sure she isn't just trying to poison me in the worst way possible?”

“Yeah, I gave it a test earlier. It's safe. Don't recommend drinkin' it though.”

“Well, that was... sweet of you. Anyways, come on Bull, I'm ready.”

“Smells nice at least. Alright, here goes.”

“Probably just some overpriced Orlesian – _oh_.”

“Oh?”

“Oh. That's... different. You can – _ah_ – go on and move.”

“Already?”

“Yes, oh gods, _yes._ ”

* * *

No matter the size of it, crowds always parted around Lavellan. Even the fresh-eyed soldiers that hefted their broadswords around the fortressed courtyards of Skyhold shuffled out of his way, either diverting their eyes or staring at his hand with nervous frowns. As much as the thought of entire countries recognizing his face made him want to bolt into the woods and become another nameless elf, it was at least nice that he didn't need to stick to the shadows when navigating hoards of humans anymore.

So Lavellan was used to always having a clear path in front of him. And in the few times he didn't, his nimble feet and quick reflexes meant that very little ever stood in his way.

Until one particularly crowded day in the marketplace, when he nearly mowed down a healer carrying a stack of linens back to her tent. In the sudden flurry of white cloth, he offered her a hasty apology, but spared only a few seconds to help her regain her balance before continuing on his warpath.

The stall he finally came to a stop at shook as he slammed a small but hefty bag down on its counter. The telltale sound of metal coins rattling against each other pulled the attention of several nearby merchants, who were suddenly very interested in what had the Inquisitor himself throwing that much money around. But not Belle. Belle waited, not looking up from her logbook until properly greeted.

“You have yourself a deal,” Lavellan said through gritted teeth.

“Well, Inquisitor,” Belle said, finally tilting her head up with a smirk and a knowing glint in her eyes. “It's a _pleasure_ doing business with you.”

* * *

“Did anyone else hear some awfully strange noises coming from the woods last night?” Dorian said as he placed his half-unfinished bowl of stew down on the log beside him. He rested his chin on his hand, peering over at where Bull sat on the ground. The sun hadn't risen enough yet for Dorian to even care when Bull reached over and grabbed what was left of his picked-over breakfast. Lavellan huffed as the movement forced him to sit up from his spot dozing into Bull's side.

“The bears keeping you up at night, Dorian? Scared they're gonna come looking for a snack?” Bull said from behind the bowl he was scarfing down.

“Oh? Are the bears around here so bored that they're begging the rabbits to run faster? Or perhaps they're _demanding_ that the winds blow harder?”

Lavellan choked on his own spit.

“You will excuse me. I do not need to hear this,” Cassandra said, managing to gather her sword and pack and disappear into the woods faster before Lavellan could even get the words out to stop her. With her out of the picture, there was nothing holding the other two men back from tearing his dignity to pieces. Or at least, the shards of it he had left in either of their eyes.

“Must be some _hungry_ bears out here, huh?” Bull said with a laugh.

“I swear I will slice off both of your tongues with a dull knife if you don't shut up.” Lavellan jabbed his spoon at each of them, which just got him a devilish grin from Dorian and Bull's arm around his shoulder.

“Hah. You like my tongue way too much for that.” Lavellan rolled his eyes but still leaned back into Bull's side.

“I thought you said you two didn't do _that_ in the field anyway,” Dorian said. “Something about not being able to jump out and slit someone's throat if your ass is too sore?”

“Why does everyone seem to think the only thing I care about is murder?” Lavellan started speaking again as soon as he saw Dorian's mouth open. “But, well. Things have changed, Dorian.”

“The looming doom of the world really gets you going, huh?”

“Got to enjoy it while we can,” Lavellan muttered, the words making Bull's fingers tighten around his shoulder.

“Next time you hear, why not just join in?” Bull winked at the same time that Lavellan snorted and Dorian scoffed. “We don't mind company.”

“I am not some _wild animal_. I would never have sex in the woods of all places – I am a _gentleman_ who requires at least minimal decency.” Dorian clutched at his chest in an grand show of offense. “It takes _pampering_ to get me in bed.”

“Aw, tree sex is the best though,” Bull laughed. “Boss says it reminds him of home. Starts getting all muttery in Elvhen, saying stuff like – ”

“ _Anyways._ Have you met Belle, Dorian? Lovely woman. Yes, _definitely_ remind me to introduce you to Belle.”

* * *

“Hello, my dear Belle. How are you doing today?”

Belle jerked her back into a straight line and folded her hands together in front of her dress, as if a string attached to her spine had just been tugged up. In stark contrast, Lavellan practically draped himself on top of her stall, resting his elbows next to her colorful display of foreign fruits. “Hello, Inquisitor.”

“I brought you some pastries back from Orlais – you'll have to forgive me, I don't have any idea what they're called.” Lavellan placed the cloth-wrapped package on the countertop along with his usual bag of coins. “The ones that look like little knots with fruit filling? Quite good.”

“Thank you for thinking of me,” Belle said, though her face didn't even twitch from its frown. Lavellan raised his eyebrows at the unfamiliar flat tone of her voice. Their usual back-and-forth of playful jabs and flirtatious smiles had become something he'd looked forward to when he managed to find the time.

“Is everything alright? I've come to pick up my shipment, but if there's something else I can help with – “

“Inquisitor, I am terribly sorry, but... I have nothing for you this month.”

“You – please don't tell me you mean what I think.”

“The town it's sourced from, it's – well, it's right on the border, you see, and the Fereldans have caused yet another conflict over that territory. With the roads blocked off, my traders cannot get through. I do apologize, but until it's resolved, there's simply nothing I can do.”

Lavellan gritted his teeth. It had been a busy month, lots of long, stressful days becoming long nights with Bull. The bottle in his room had run dry already days ago.

“Don't worry, Belle,” he said through a clenched jaw, unable to stop his teeth from baring. “I will take care of this.”

* * *

“Now, if we send a platoon of troops, we may be able to simply intimidate Orlais into conceding,” Lavellan said, moving a metal marker from Emprise du Lion to an unlabeled section of the war table's map. “The town used to be Fereldan territory, and if the reports are to be believed, the people would rather it return to their control.”

The three advisors said nothing, the only sound in the room the slow taps of Josephine's quill against her notes, though Lavellan did notice she hadn't written any of this down. Lavellan also did not miss the look Cullen and Leliana shared, eyebrows raised.

“This is... probably something we should stay out of,” Cullen finally said. “Truthfully, I don't see any advantage to getting involved in politics of this... small scale.”

Leliana nodded. “There are much more pressing things to concern ourselves with right now. Our resources are already stretched thin.”

“Yes, exactly,” Josephine said, sounding grateful that she didn't need to be the first to speak up. “It would not be wise to upset our allies by interfering with a minor border dispute. These things tend to resolve without violence anyways.”

“Their economy could collapse if we don't act now!” Lavellan said, his voice rising. “You clearly don't understand the importance of this.”

“...You're right, we really don't.” Josephine shook her head. She peered down at the map, as if the location held the answers that she was missing.

“Lavellan, I know you're concerned,” Cullen said, offering a hand on his shoulder that Lavellan shrugged off. “But these things happen all the time in that area. It should work itself out soon enough.”

“There's no telling how long that could take.” Lavellan raised the market, just to strike it back down against the map, the sound echoing through the room. “Freeing up this route should be one of our top priorities.”

“Do we trade anything particularly important with that area?” Josephine asked with her quill resting against her chin as it always was when she ran through her mental library of notes.

“Yes, _do_ we?” Leliana asked, drawing Lavellan's eyes to her unblinking stare and pursed lips, an impressive mockery of innocence. Of course she knew. Lavellan cursed himself for ever thinking that anything inside Skyhold would escape her ears.

“The Inquisition should be dedicated to making peace, wherever that may be.” Lavellan picked up another marker from across the table, only stopped from slamming it down by Cullen's sudden hand on his wrist.

“What are you – no, put that down – we are _not_ sending a fleet of mages there. Are you _trying_ to start another war?”

* * *

 Lavellan hefted himself up onto the horse, biting his lip to hide his cringe as he settled onto the saddle. He missed riding halla. Halla ran with pride, not like these overly-tall beasts that jostled him around like a sack.

“Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?” Josephine asked from his side, passing up his bag of supplies. “You don't need to personally go sort this out – truthfully, I still don't understand why you want to get involved at all.”

“There's other business we're taking care of along the way, remember?”

“Yes, but – “

Varric laughed from behind them, somehow already up on his own horse. Lavellan wondered how he managed that faster than himself. “I have no clue what we're getting up to, but there's no way I'm missing whatever's got Inky's ears in a knot.”

“Just... please don't cause too much unrest. For the sake of my sanity.” Josephine shook her head once before walking away, leaving the four men to wait for Skyhold's gates to open.

“Are you going to be alright on that horse?” Dorian asked, riding his own up next to Lavellan. “Would you care for a down pillow, perhaps?”

“Hey, Dorian? If you don't want a pillow down your throat, how about you go ahead and _shove it_?”

“Watch out, that's pretty much what caused this in the first place,” Bull said. Lavellan wondered, as the gate opened and they started to ride, if it was too late to switch out his companions for this mission.

“Oh, this trip is going to be _interesting_ ,” Varric said. “Remember to bicker nice and slow so I can get this all down, alright?”

“Let's just go and make this fucking quick.”

* * *

The shop was not so much a shop as it was a small wooden warehouse with a table at the front. Scents both familiar and unfamiliar wafted up from the barrels and bottles that lined the walls. It was hard to make out any single ingredient, but the overpowering mix of floral and spice reminded Lavellan of the rituals of home.

He noticed the tools – green-stained mortars, round pedestals, and wooden skimmers – before he noticed the two people using them. A man and a woman, both gray-haired and wrinkled around the eyes, looked up at him, their faces gone pale and hands frozen.

“Ah, Inquisitor,” the man finally said, his voice quivering. “It's a... surprise to see you. In this town. And in here?”

“Thank you for stepping in to help our dear little town.” The woman stood up, dragging the man up by his arm and forcing him over to the doorway. “I'm glad that this conflict is over – we do most of our business in Orlais, you see. Trade keeps us afloat.”

“Which is why we should have stayed with Orlais – “

“Orlais was oppressive in their taxing, at least Fereldan lets us make a profit – “

“But, their protection was – “

With his teeth clenched, Lavellan held up a hand. The two humans jolted back, and it was only then that Lavellan realized his hand was coated in fresh blood. He ran a hand through his hair, and sure enough, it came away dripping. No wonder they'd looked afraid he was going to run a knife through their stomachs when he stormed into their store.

“You... manufacture oils, right? I have the right place?”

The man and woman shifted to look at each other, the man giving a tiny shake of his head that just made the woman's eyes narrow in incredulousness.

“Yes.” The woman ignored the man's elbow in her side, grabbing his wrist to still it. “We do. Was there one in particular you were looking for?”

Lavellan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He had no name to give, no ingredients, just a... purpose. One that he definitely was not going to say out loud.

Just as he was about to turn and leave – he could find the patience to wait for his shipment to get to Skyhold, even if it drove him insane – he heard the door behind him open again. The two humans took another shocked step back straight into the table, sending a bowl of leaves rolling to the ground

“Hey, Boss. How's it going?” Lavellan turned to see Bull ducking his horns through the door. He came to rest his hand on Lavellan's shoulder, offering a small smile. “They got it?”

Turns out Lavellan didn't need one of those fancy masks to hide his expression – a coat of dried blood could hide the flush spreading across his cheeks just as well. He opened his mouth to speak, to tell them that it was the one that smelled like pine and elfroot, which _surely_ would be enough to identify it, when he noticed the man staring at him with far too much thought in his eyes.

The man looked at Lavellan, then up at Bull. And then finally down at Bull's hand on Lavellan's shoulder, where his gaze stayed. “Oh. I know the one.”

Lavellan tried to protest as the man turned to the shelves, but all that came out was a splutter of nonsense syllables that turned into a resigned groan. He didn't need to look at Bull to know he was grinning like he was about to cackle.

“It's... on the house.”

Lavellan stared at the bottle the man held out to him. Even corked, he could smell that it was the right one. He willed himself to snatch it, tucking it straight into his bag, like that could make the moment disappear with it.

“Come on, Bull,” he muttered as he tugged Bull away and out the door faster than he could thank them.

“Well,” he heard the woman say once they were out of view. “That certainly explains _that_ monthly order.”

* * *

“Inquisitor! Look at you,” Belle said, her lips curling into a smile big enough to show her teeth. “You walk light as a feather.”

“All thanks to you,” he said, swinging the hefty coin purse up onto the wood, several pieces of gold spilling out across the countertop in the process.

“No, thank _you_ for setting that trade route straight. You always take such good care of me.”

“Anything for you, my dear.”

Lavellan gestured behind him, and two soldiers stepped forward, confusion clear on their face but both of them smart enough to not say a word. “Up to my chambers will be fine,” he said, nodding at them both before walking away.

“What... what's in this _barrel_?”

“Inquisition business!” Lavellan called over his shoulder, making one of the men stumble over his feet.

“Try not to drop it, boys,” Belle giggled. “Or you just may never walk again.”

 


End file.
